


throw your gold into a wishing well

by kiroiimye



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alternate Universe - College/University, Awkward Flirting, Bad Flirting, Drunken Flirting, Flirting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Football | Soccer, Gay Disaster Kawanishi Taichi, Good Friends Don't Let Each Other Pine Too Much, Implied TenSemi, M/M, Mentioned Osasuna, Mentioned Suna Rintarou, Mutual Pining, Pining Shirabu Kenjirou, Shirabu Kenjirou Swears, Shirabu Kenjirou is a Little Shit, Soccer AU, Strangers to rivals to lovers, don't try these tactics, failed flirting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:40:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26113567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kiroiimye/pseuds/kiroiimye
Summary: Kenjirou scowls at him and shoves his hands into the pockets of his warm-up jacket. "I don't. But if you aren't gonna try on the field, then you should quit while you're still ahead." He doesn't know why he's suddenly spouting shit off to a stranger, but it's strangely gratifying and he can't help it when the scowl turns into a smirk. "Or else my team and I will just end up crushing yours this season."Those lazy mocha eyes narrow into slits and Kenjirou's heart jumps like it's been jabbed with a set of electric cables.Five times Kawanishi and Shirabu tried to hit on each other and the one time they succeed.
Relationships: Kawanishi Taichi/Shirabu Kenjirou
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	throw your gold into a wishing well

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kunimiakiras](https://archiveofourown.org/users/kunimiakiras/gifts).



> i blinked and suddenly the wordcount was 5.8k.

_ [one] _

The game is pulsating. Kenjirou can  _ feel  _ the energy from the crowd as they drum their feet against the steel bleachers,  _ feel  _ the sweat drop from his forehead,  _ feel  _ his heart race as he watches the ball dribble between Goshiki’s feet towards the opposite goal.

_ There.  _ Kenjirou bites down on his lip as Goshiki sends a clean pass to Ushijima and his hands sweat in his goalie gloves as their star striker nears the net. The opposing goalie is tense for the strike, and Kenjirou squeezes his fists.

_ C’mon, c’mon, c’mon… _

Ushijima slams his foot against the ball and it sails home, past the goalie’s fingertips, and straight into the net.

The crowd is deafening with their cheers, voices echoing their star striker's name as Ushijima marches back to their end of the field, fist raised. His triumphant march doesn't last: he's bombarded by hugs and claps on the back by the team, and Kenjirou is one of them.

"That was amazing, Ushijima-san," he says earnestly, and Ushijima nods at him with a small smile.

"Thank you, Shirabu."

Kenjirou feels his heart soar, just as the referees whistle them back to place. He flicks a gaze at the time on the scoreboard: twelve minutes left of the last half. 

The score is 3-2. Twelve minutes to last and they win the first game of Kenjirou's first college season as starting goalie. The grin that decorates his face is unabashed and wild. They're going to win.

— 

Lasting twelve minutes is more difficult than Kenjirou thinks. Despite the heavy conditioning he went through upon joining his university's soccer team, it's still incredibly exhausting to play two full forty-five-minute halves without being substituted. 

Kenjirou's admittedly more acclimated to the shorter, fifteen-minute quarters that he played in high school, but he'll be damned if he has to leave the field in the last twelve minutes.

"Ken-ji-rou-kun~!" Tendou Satori, one of the team's defenders, wave at him from the edge of the white-lined box. "You aren't looking too hot there! Doing alright?"

Kenjirou grimaces, thinking about the sweat dripping from his back and the soreness in his chest from diving to catch an earlier attempt at the goal. "I'm fine. Just focus on the game, Tendou-san."

Tendou pouts, but it doesn't last for long as a player from the opposing side approaches, the ball at his feet, and Goshiki pursuing him. "Incoming, Kenji-kun!" Tendou chirps, before he whisks off to attack the player.

Kenjirou squares his shoulders and watches the fight between Tendou and the other player. Tendou is up in the other boy's face, relentless in kicking the ball away from the goal and towards the other end of the field. But the other isn't giving an inch, and he manages to kick the ball through a gap in between Tendou's feet and reappears behind the ball again.

Their defenders and midfielders are scattered—Kenjirou can see as much, from where Tendou's still by the sidelines and the others clustered in the middle of the field. Coach Washijou is shouting unintelligible orders from the sidelines, clearly worked up in a craze as the lone opposing player advances on Kenjirou and his goal.

Kenjirou grits his teeth, wipes the sweat from his brow, and looks the other player in the eye.

It's almost a mistake. 

Kenjirou has never been afraid to admit his attraction for the masculine gender, and he isn't about to stop now. Even if it's quite possibly the  _ worst _ time to be having a slightly gay crisis over someone he's playing against.

His eyes are  _ beautiful _ . They're the color of the darkest mocha from Kenjirou's favorite cafe, swirling with flecks of caramel, and good  _ god _ , if it doesn't send a hint of a butterfly breeze into his stomach. And those stunning mocha eyes are narrowed in determination, looking almost like a bird of prey glaring at its next meal. The harrowing expression wavers for a split second— _ surprise? awe, perhaps? _ —before slipping back into the prior facade and Kenjirou shakes his head out of a daze.

"Stop him, Kenjirou!" Coach Washijou bellows from down the field, and it's enough to reset his thoughts and refocus on the approaching threat.

Kenjirou throws himself in front of the ball's trajectory, gripping it tightly to his chest until he hears the long-blown whistle, signifying the game's end.

A roar erupts from their end of the stands, and Kenjirou carefully gets to his feet, before he's tackled by his teammates.

"Kenjirou-kun, that was so cool–"

"We won, we won–!"

"I can't believe you caught that, I swear it was gonna go higher, but it didn't and holy shit dude–"

Kenjirou offers his teammates a smile. "But we won."

And what an incredibly fucking great win it was.

— 

Kenjirou doesn't expect to see the opposing team players after the match and awards ceremony. He figures that they would've gotten on the bus and gone home after their defeat.

But no, here he stands in the restroom hallway, facing down the same player who tried to shoot that last goal.

"It's you," the boy says. His voice is rough and almost tired. "The new goalie of the Sendai Swans."

Kenjirou arches an apprehensive eyebrow at the other. "Glad that I'm recognizable. I don't suppose we know each other."

He says it flatly, like a statement, because he knows he's  _ never _ met this boy before (after all, he would've remembered those eyes). 

"No, we don't," the other boy agrees. Those intense eyes hone in on Kenjirou's and he feels his heart shudder with the same butterfly tremor from before. "Name's Kawanishi Taichi."

"Shirabu," Kenjirou says stiffly. He won't give his full name to this boy. "You didn't try at the end," he continues. He's never had much of a filter.

Kawanishi blinks at him. "You could tell?"

"Well  _ yeah _ , it was super obvious." Kenjirou rolls his eyes. "The ball was supposed to be higher but it wasn't. I almost missed it."

Kawanishi stares at him unblinkingly, before he shrugs with a hefty sigh. "But you didn't, so why does it matter to you?"

"Because anyone who isn't trying shouldn't be on the field."

Kawanishi’s mouth opens, before clamping shut. "You don't even know me."

Kenjirou scowls at him and shoves his hands into the pockets of his warm-up jacket. "I don't. But if you aren't gonna try on the field, then you should quit while you're still ahead." He doesn't know why he's suddenly spouting shit off to a stranger, but it's strangely gratifying and he can't help it when the scowl turns into a smirk. "Or else my team and I will just end up crushing yours this season."

Those lazy mocha eyes narrow into slits and Kenjirou's heart jumps like it's been jabbed with a set of electric cables. 

"Is that a threat?" Kawanishi drawls. "Big talk, coming from a newbie goalie."

"From the game you put up today? It'll be all too easy, Kawanishi." Kenjirou bares a hint of teeth at the other boy and to his disappointment, Kawanishi doesn't rise to the bait. 

Instead, his pretty eyes widen by a fraction, and a crimson blush dusts across his pale cheeks. He averts his gaze from Kenjirou's with a small cough and an inaudible mutter of something  _ else _ being too easy.

Kenjirou's lips twitch. He hates to be ignored, especially if he's declaring war on another team, and  _ really _ . His newly declared rival is apparently not as sane as Kenjirou thinks he is.

"What's too easy? Speak up so I can properly make sure that my team annihilates yours in the next game."

Kawanishi peers back at him and stares for a moment, before shoving his hands into his jacket pockets and walking away.

"Nothing. See you on the field, Shirabu."

He's disappeared from the corridor within a minute and Kenjirou's left feeling oddly flat and dissatisfied.

It's nothing, he decides. He'll just make sure that the Sendai Swans comes out with a clear victory against Kawanishi and his Shiratorizawa Eagles. 

_ Then, and only then, will he be satisfied. _

  
  


_ [two] _

Taichi isn't entirely sure what's wrong with him. Yes, he had slacked a little and inadvertently caused his team to lose their first game of the season, and against their biggest  _ rival _ , no less. Yes, he had started a rivalry between the new Swan goalie and himself by accident, that day in the restroom corridor, when he was  _ really _ trying to hit on the other boy. These sorts of things happen. Soccer rivalries, no biggie.

But trying and  _ failing _ to hit on a guy? That's an epic failure of major proportions for Taichi in itself.

"Maybe it's the exhaustion," Semi suggests, when Taichi voices his concerns to his  _ senpai _ .

They're lounging in Semi's shared apartment with Reon. Taichi's spread-eagled on the carpeted floor and Semi's legs are thrown across the armrest of the small couch. Three rotating fans surround them, each fan stuck in the same position.

The summer heat had arrived weeks too soon, and it's absolutely sweltering in the small apartment. Even with the blinds closed and the curtains shut, Taichi can still feel the heat from outside, casting in through small cracks in the wall to burn his skin alive.

"Can't be," Taichi replies. "I've hit on dudes on three hours of sleep. A ninety-minute soccer game is nothing."

Taichi prides himself on his suaveness, on his ability to drop smooth lines on pretty boys and get them to fall all over him. Granted, he's not the  _ best _ looking guy around (Semi himself had taken the role), but he's thankfully granted with a silver tongue and he's damn well proud of the lines he's dropped on the fly.

Problem: the one time he absolutely needed to hit on someone (and that someone being the Swans' new goalie), his silver tongue and smooth words had failed him.

_ Failed. Him. _

Taichi's never been so disappointed in himself.

"Look, it might've been a fluke," Semi interrupts his thoughts dryly. "This is what, the first time your quick-witted brain hasn't worked? Out of, like, twelve billion times of hitting on someone? Don't worry too much, Taichi."

Taichi sighs again, shifting his face to face the floor. Light brown hair, the color of spun gold and the palest of teak wood mixed together, flickers through his mind, and he groans. "Dammit."

Semi lets out a low "tch" before he rolls off the couch completely. "C'mon. We're going out."

"It's too hot to go out."

"We're going  _ out _ ." Semi's tone leaves no room for arguing and Taichi sighs loudly.

When Semi gets into his mom-mode, there's really no stopping him.

— 

"Really?" Taichi swivels around to look at his senpai, a dead look in his gaze. "A  _ cafe? _ "

Semi shrugs in his tank top and cardigan, as if he's not sweating from the dry heat. "I wanted coffee."

"Semi-senpai, it's 35 degrees Celsius."

"Iced coffee exists," Semi deadpans. "Also, I'll buy you a cake-pop."

Taichi considers his options for less than a minute. "Deal."

They enter the cafe together, the door jingling behind them, and a very  _ familiar _ voice greets, "Welcome to Opera Lake Cafe, how may I—"

The greeting is cut off by a low "geh" and Taichi finds himself standing face to face with Shirabu.

The hair catches his eye first: bangs cut diagonally and the same shade of spun gold and pale wood that he remembers from the game, almost a week before.

"The fuck is that supposed to mean?” Shirabu is glaring at him now and Taichi is suddenly aware that he might not have said those words as quietly as he should’ve.

Taichi frowns at his idiocy and shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts. “Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”

“What are you even doing here?” Shirabu demands, folding his arms. Taichi's breath catches—it seriously needs to be  _ illegal _ for someone to look that attractive.

Before he can figure out the sort of response he wants to answer with, Semi rolls his eyes and snorts. "We’re at a cafe, what do you think? Now can you both quit flirting so I can get a coffee?"

The reactions he receives are explosive.

"We're not—!"

"What the  _ hell _ do you mean—?!"

"Kenji-kun, what's all the racket happening—oh, Semi-Semi!" A young man with brilliant crimson hair steps out from behind a curtain, his smile whimsical and eyes bright. He beams at his coworker, whose face is pressed into a permanent scowl, then Semi, whose expression wavers between annoyed and furious, before peering at Taichi.

His gaze is unnerving and unreadable: two things Taichi dislikes the most, and he feels all the hairs on the back of his next stand up.

Taichi's very sure he's never met this guy before, and at the rate he's going, he doesn't really ever want to meet this guy again.

"Aha!" Shirabu's coworker snaps his fingers. "You were that midfielder in the last game! The one who almost scored on Kenji-kun!"

Taichi blinks. "Yes?"

The other male grins. "Name's Tendou! I was that itty-bitty defender that tried to kick you out!"

Taichi briefly remembers spiky red hair on the field. Though the memory is hazy, it clicks with the person in front of him. He offers a hesitant smile.

"Kawanishi."

"Kawa-kun–hey, can I call you that?"

"No."

"Kawa-kun, you're the one who Kenjirou's been throwing a fit about—"

Shirabu throws himself over Tendou as Taichi's brain short-circuits and Semi starts screaming insults at Tendou.

"You  _ bastard _ , I told you not to call me that—!"

"But Semi-Semi—!"

_ Shirabu's been talking about him? _

Taichi steals a glance at Shirabu, who's currently wrestling Tendou with a seemingly random roll of tape, while Tendou and Semi bicker. Shirabu's eyes flick towards Taichi briefly, a sort of burning heat in them, and his heart stutters.

_ Pretty. _

Taichi's heart is a traitorous piece of shit.

It's a shame he likes to follow it.

So he clears his throat, steps towards the counter, and tries, "Hey Shirabu, are you a coffee because I—"

A croissant hurtles from behind the counter and knocks Taichi in the head. Taichi briefly swears to never touch another croissant ever again.

—

"We are  _ never _ going back to that cafe again," Semi declares as they march down the street. "The employees are  _ terrible _ .”

Taichi's pretty sure Semi's lying, because 1) he bought two cups of coffee from the cafe and 2) he was flirting up a storm with Tendou (despite his consistent remarks that he actually  _ hated _ the guy).

But he doesn't voice his thoughts out loud. Instead, he says dryly, "Alright, Semi-san."

With or without Semi, Taichi is definitely making a trip or three back.

  
  
  


_ [three] _

Kenjirou drops his pencil and slumps over his desk for the third time. "Fuuuuuuuuck."

"What are you whining about now?" Miya Osamu doesn't even bother looking up from his assignment on the other side of the room. "And if you're gonna keep whining, do it quieter."

"You're a shitty roommate, Osamu."

"No, you just complain too much," Osamu amends dryly.

Kenjirou grumbles incoherently from his side of the room and smacks his head against his desk– _ loudly,  _ just to piss off his roommate–before he gives up on studying altogether and drops onto his bed.

There’s a soft sigh on the other side of the room, and it doesn’t take long for a weight to settle next to Kenjirou on his bed. A hand slides through his hair, brushing the locks soothingly, and Kenjirou peers up at Osamu with one eye. “Won’t your boyfriend get jealous?”

Osamu scoffs. “No. Fortunately, Suna knows how much of a wreck you are. Just like Atsumu.”

“Blech. Don’t compare me to that idiot.”

“Sure, sure,” Osamu chuckles. He tugs at  _ just  _ the right strand and Kenjirou sighs, feeling his muscles loosen. 

It’s five more minutes of just that, sitting in comfortable, amicable silence, before Osamu prompts, “So? What’s up?”

“Nothing is up,” Kenjirou grumbles, and his roommate rolls his eyes.

“Please. You only act up when there’s a cute dude involved. Or when you’re stressed over school or a game. And considering how you haven’t said a single word about Goshiki missing his shots, or Ukai-sensei assigning a stupid amount of English homework, I’m going to assume it’s the former,” Osamu deadpans. 

Kenjirou bites back a frustrated scream. Since when was he this easy to read?!

“It’s all over your face, Kenji,” Osamu continues, blatantly ignoring his friend’s internal crisis. “That is the  _ expression  _ of a pining man.”

“I’m not pining!”

“Sure you aren’t. So, who is it?”

“No one!”

Kenjirou doesn’t even have to look up to see Osamu practically roll his eyes out of his own head. 

“You’re an idiot,” Osamu states flatly and he pats Kenjirou’s head. “Hope you confess soon.”

“...Thanks.”

“What’re friends for?”

Kenjirou flips himself over to grin at his roommate. “To complain to and pine for boys, apparently.”

“Yeah, you know what?” Osamu snatches Kenjirou’s phone out of his pocket in one swift move, and unlocks it with his fingerprint (okay, Kenjirou  _ really  _ needs to delete Osamu’s fingerprint from his phone). “This friend is gonna do something about it.”

Kenjirou lunges for his phone and Osamu moves off the mattress, before he flops onto Kenjirou’s back. “You don’t even know who it is, Osamu!”

“Sure I do. Some dude with pretty eyes that you considered a rival and suddenly you developed feelings for him out of the blue after you caught him staring at you during your shift.” At Kenjirou’s aghast expression, Osamu shrugs. “Tendou told me.”

“That  _ traitor!” _ Kenjirou rages as Osamu flicks through his phone.

“Where is the phone number…”

“I don’t have it!”

“Oh, Tendou sent it to you.” Osamu glares accusingly at Kenjirou, who snarls defiantly back at him. “Why haven’t you texted him?”

“That’s weird!” Kenjirou snaps. “I’m not gonna text him!”

Osamu stares at him blankly, before he sighs and says the next words that just about dooms Kenjirou's entire existence. "Okay, fine. I will."

Kenjirou screeches and flails beneath his roommate as Osamu voices his typing: "Hey, it's Shirabu, I think you're so damn h—"

"Hell no!" Kenjirou kicks at Osamu's legs and in his moment of pain, wrests the phone from his hands. Just as Kenjirou manages to snatch his phone back and hold it to his chest, the familiar ping of a  _ sent _ message makes him freeze.

"Osamu, on  _ god _ , I will murder you," he warns, before peering back at his phone.

_ Shirabu: Hey it's Shirabu, I think you're super hangry _

There's a pregnant pause as Osamu scrambles off of Kenjirou to peer at his phone. "So why did 'hot' autocorrect to 'hangry?'"

"Get away from me before I throw you out the window."

  
  
  


_ [four] _

Taichi's just about eighty-seven percent sure he's completely shit-faced. 

He had gone drinking with Yamagata (a terrible idea), who had offered free drinks (and when Yamagata’s offering free drinks, it's definitely not gonna be good). Yamagata had taken him to a bar in the upscale side of the city and they had drank the night away with glasses full of drinks Taichi has never even  _ heard _ of.

But they taste good, so what else matters?

And this is probably how Taichi finds himself at the Sendai Swans' university dormitory complex, absolutely buzzed and swaying on his feet, as he knocks on Shirabu's door.

He has a vague recollection of Yamagata giving him the room number before swaggering off to some other place in the building, and that's where the night finds him: drunk as hell and knocking at Shirabu's door.

Shirabu answers on Taichi's third round of knocking and just the mere  _ sight _ of him clears any hazy fuzz in Taichi's brain for a split moment.

His hair is adorably mussed, the typically neat strands sticking up, and he's wearing a pair of silver-rimmed glasses on his nose. There’s a scowl on his lips, as if Taichi had caught him in the middle of studying.

Taichi's drunken stupor only allows one word to enter his brain:  _ cute _ .

Shirabu's scowl morphs into an upward curve of concern and amusement. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Here to hit on you," he slurs. He feels his eyes dart around Shirabu’s face sluggishly and his heart crashes to the ground at Shirabu’s playful grin and glittering eyes because  _ Jesus Christ, who even  _ looks  _ that cute? _

"Okay go for it.” Shirabu folds his arms and tilts his head invitingly. “Break a leg."

"You must be an acute angle because you're—" Taichi takes a step closer towards Shirabu and he immediately knows that it’s the worst decision to make while drunk, because he trips over his own feet and he’s falling towards Shirabu, who yelps and tries to slide his arms underneath Taichi. 

“Fuck—!” Shirabu drops to the ground and Taichi slumps over the smaller boy with a groan. “Are you okay?”

“‘M…” Taichi pushes his foot against the ground and immediately cringes at the pain that laces up his ankle. “Ow.”

“What do you mean ‘ _ ow?!’”  _ Shirabu scrambles out from underneath Taichi, eyes wide with alarm. “Where does it hurt?”

“Ankle.”

Shirabu’s hands brush over his ankle and Taichi’s hazy brain focuses, not on the twinges of pain that shoots up his leg, but on the coolness of Shirabu’s hands on his heated skin and how his fingers are so  _ slender,  _ so  _ delicate,  _ so  _ careful _ —

“I think you have a twisted ankle.” 

Taichi blinks. “Huh?” 

“Twisted. Ankle,” Shirabu deadpans. “Stay here, I’m gonna grab my emergency kit.”

“‘M not going anywhere,” Taichi hums, watching Shirabu disappear into his room, and his heart stops at how  _ honest  _ he sounds. Fuck, he really does have it bad, doesn’t he?

“Fuck,” Taichi says out loud, just as Shirabu reappears with a large white box. The smaller boy glares at him.

“Don’t tell me you moved.”

“I’m drunk, but I’m not  _ stupid.” _

Shirabu snorts as he kneels at Taichi’s side, hands full of gauze and a cold pack. “Sure, because you totally didn’t twist your ankle while trying to hit on me. The notion was very well appreciated though.”

If Taichi has a clearer mind, there’s no doubt that he would be absolutely  _ mortified,  _ but well. Tonight’s not one of those nights and he’s feeling completely and  _ utterly  _ shameless and just a little bit bold. “I  _ meant  _ for that to happen.”

“Uh-huh. And I’m the closet monster who scares children at night.”

“Close enough. Although,” Taichi tilts his head and offers the most charming smile he can manage (though he’s sure the effect is nullified by his sprained ankle), “I’d say you’re a lot prettier than a closet monster.”

“...Shut up.”

“Why?” Taichi grins broadly. “Too flustered?”

Shirabu arches one eyebrow at him and very slowly, very  _ deliberately,  _ presses down on his swelling ankle. 

“Fuck! Okay, okay, shutting up now!”

“That’s what I thought.”

Shirabu turns away from him, but Taichi sees the edge of a smirk on his lips and his heart  _ stutters.  _ Goddammit.

But he holds his tongue, watching as Shirabu wraps his ankle, whilst holding a cold pack over it. His hands are steady and deft and Taichi is utterly  _ mesmerized  _ by him. It’s almost like the first time Taichi saw him: unshakeable and firm where he had stood in the goalpost, eyes fierce and focused and so goddamn striking. 

“How do you know how to do that?” 

The smaller boy pauses, hand hovering over Taichi’s ankle. “What do you mean?”

“All this,” he makes a vague gesture, “healing stuff.”

A slow grin spreads over Shirabu’s face: soft and pretty in the harsh hall light. “I’m a med student. You didn’t know?”

“Well, all my attempts to get to know you have utterly  _ failed _ .” Taichi mock-pouts at him and the other boy laughs warmly. A swarm of butterflies dances in the pit of his stomach at the sound because  _ god,  _ how is it fair that Shirabu can have this effect on him?

“I’ll let you try again when you’re sober then.” Shirabu pulls away, dusting off his hands and getting to his feet. “Kawanishi, you think you can walk? We should get to the infirmary and get you checked out.” 

“Sure,” he says and ignores the way his brain buzzes at ‘ _ try again when you’re sober.’  _ “I think the alcohol is wearing off.”

Shirabu nods, before he gets back down on one knee (Taichi’s brain  _ buzzes and it won’t shut up),  _ and hooks his arm underneath Taichi’s. “Okay, I’m gonna help you get up, so don’t be a drunken prick.” 

“I’ll do my best.”

Shirabu counts them off and carefully lifts Taichi off the floor. They stagger together before holding firm and Shirabu shifts his shoulder. “You alright, Kawanishi?”

“Fine,” Taichi says. He takes one step forward and it’s exactly the wrong thing to say, because black spots dance in front of his eyes and his legs buckle. 

This time, Taichi falls alone and he can hear Shirabu swear underneath his breath. He barely sees the other boy past the dancing black spots and his head spins as he tries to get to his feet.

“Oi, Shirabu.”

“Yeah?”

"Do you have a bandaid? I just scraped my knee falling for you.”

The world darkens as he hears Shirabu’s exasperated shout of, “Shut the hell up, I think you scraped more than just a knee, what the fuck.”

Ah, music to his ears.

  
  


_ [five] _

Kenjirou’s soccer practice is damn  _ brutal.  _ It’s the peak of the afternoon, with the sun high and not a cloud in the sky. There’s no clear breeze, nor is there any shade across the field to offer respite from the summer heat.

By the time the team finishes warmups, Kenjirou’s skin is uncomfortably sticky with sweat and his shirt sticks to his back as he jogs to the sidelines for water.

“This heat is fucking ridiculous,” he grumbles to no one in particular. 

Goshiki nods furiously. The poor kid is already drenched in sweat and it shows through the stains on his gray shirt. “We gotta persevere through! Our next game is soon!”

“Speak for yourself, Tsutomu-kun.” Tendou rolls his eyes and mocks a solemn expression. “Coach is going to run us into the ground and kill us all before we get there.”

“T-Tendou-senpai, you can’t mean that—!”

“Oi! Quit dawdling and get back to the field!” Coach Washijou hollers.

“Yes sir!”

—

It’s the second scrimmage of practice and Kenjirou wonders how long it’ll take for him to drop dead in the middle of the field.

Granted, he hasn’t had to run  _ nearly  _ as much as Tendou, Goshiki, or Ushijima, but standing in between the goalposts for just as long makes his legs lock up and his head spin. 

Sure, Kenjirou  _ loves  _ soccer. He loves being on the field and living in the rush of the game. But a five-hour practice in the afternoon summer heat and scrimmaging  _ all  _ day twists his stomach uncomfortably and makes him want to have a stroke in the goal post.

“Oi! Kenji-kun, get ready!” Tendou calls cheerfully. He’s on Goshiki’s tail as the younger boy makes his way down the field, the ball dribbling between his feet. 

Kenjirou heaves a breath and tenses for the shot. He watches Goshiki’s feet, a pattering tandem of  _ right-and-left,  _ until he feels the buzz in his veins of  _ this is it.  _

Goshiki’s leg winds and shoots home. Kenjirou jumps for it and clamps his entire body around the ball, hugging it tightly until he listens for the whistle. 

“Nice one, Shirabu-senpai!” Goshiki gasps, eyes shining. “I thought I got that one!”

Kenjirou pats his kouhai’s shoulder. “It was a little low, try better next time.”

“Yes sir!”

Goshiki jogs off towards the other end of the field as Tendou sidles up to him, a knowing smirk on his face. “Oi~Kenji-kun~!”

“Don’t say my name like that,” Kenjirou says flatly. “What do you want?”

“Well…” Tendou’s eyes glitter in a way that sends a chill down Kenjirou’s spine. “Don’t look now, but Kawanishi-kun is watching you at the other end of the field.”

Kenjirou’s head whips towards the opposing goal post and he  _ swears  _ that his heart does not jump into his throat. Kawanishi’s leaning against one of the field’s towering light posts, his eyes fixed on Kenjirou. He raises his hand in a lazy wave and Kenjirou shakily raises his hand back, before he turns back to his teammate.

Tendou is checking his nails nonchalantly, as if he hadn’t just dropped an entire bombshell that Kenjirou’s grand cru— _ ahem,  _ rival, was watching them practice. 

Watching  _ Kenjirou  _ practice.

“Tendou-senpai, why didn’t you tell me he was  _ here?!”  _ he hisses fiercely.

The older boy blinks innocently. “But I just did. Wanna go say hi?”

“We’re in the middle of a scrimmage!”

“I didn’t say we had to go  _ over there.”  _ Tendou winks slyly at Kenjirou and before he can stop him, Tendou’s cupping his hands around his mouth.

To Kenjirou’s horror, Tendou  _ wolf-whistles  _ and practically screams, “LOOKING FINE OVER THERE, TAICHI-KUN!”

The other boy jumps and Kenjirou ducks and covers his face. “I fucking  _ hate  _ you.”

“Don’t worry, he’s blushing too.”

—

“Semi-san, I regret letting you coerce me into coming here.”

“What, you didn’t get to see your crush all sweaty and hot on the field?”

“No, I got  _ plenty  _ of that, but your stupid redheaded boyfriend wolf-whistled at me.”

“...I’ll call you back in a moment, I need to bitch at Tendou.”

  
  


_ [plus one] _

It’s the final half of the game and Kenjirou’s  _ ever  _ so grateful for the insane amount of conditioning Coach Washijou put them through because he’s never  _ sweat  _ so damn much.

The game is tight—the score is 3-3—and there’s  _ no way in hell  _ that Kenjirou’s going to let the Shiratorizawa Eagles take this win. 

He keeps his eyes on the ball, watching as Ushijima weaves in and out of the Eagles’ midfielders, then passes to Goshiki, who’s racing towards the goalpost. 

“C’mon, c’mon, c’mon…” Kenjirou crosses his fingers as Goshiki winds up for the kick and—

The goalie—a silver-haired boy with dipped-dyed edges that Kenjirou distinctly remembers as ‘Semi-Semi’—dives for the ball and clamps himself around it until the referee blows the whistle.

“Damn,” he mutters.  _ So close. _

The field resets for the goalie kick and Kenjirou’s eyes lock on a familiar mess of hair halfway across the field. His heart thumps when their eyes lock, and to his surprise, Kawanishi sends a wink his way.

_ What? _

Kenjirou vaguely remembers how much of a  _ fucking flirting disaster  _ Kawanishi had been. Where did he get off on suddenly having a stupid amount of  _ confidence?!  _

Before Kenjirou can do something stupid, like run up to Kawanishi and ask  _ what the hell  _ that wink meant or throw his cleats at him, the whistle blows and Semi-Semi sends the ball flying towards one of their players—a guy with a spiky brown undercut. 

Spiky Undercut begins to make his way down the field, with Tendou and Goshiki hot on his heels, and just as Tendou gets close enough to intercept, he sends a pass straight to Kawanishi. 

“Got it!” Kawanishi shouts, drawing near Kenjirou's goal post. He tenses himself, watching as his not-crush-big-rival dribbles closer and closer and—

“Oi! Shirabu!” 

Kenjirou stares the other boy down. He’s less than halfway to the goalpost and neither Tendou nor Goshiki has gotten close to stealing the ball back. 

“If I make this goal, go on a date with me!” 

The field comes to a standstill. Out of the corner of his eye, Kenjirou sees Tendou kick a squealing Goshiki down, his eyes shining with glee. Ushijima is stone-faced, but he too, is frozen on his side of the field. Even the coaches and the audience are dead silent, stunned by the turn of events. 

Kenjirou’s cheeks are blazing  _ red  _ because how  _ dare  _ Kawanishi put him on the spot like this?! How could he be such a cocky asshole when he’s been such a damn  _ failure  _ at flirting these last several weeks?! 

But at closer inspection, Kenjirou spots a flush of pink across of Kawanishi’s cheeks and  _ maybe,  _ just  _ maybe,  _ he was still the disastrous idiot that twisted his ankle during his attempts to flirt, still the guy that Kenjirou declared rivalry on for being too  _ fucking pretty,  _ still the guy that Kenjirou  _ might just have a disastrous crush on. _

“Okay!” he shouts back. There’s an audible gasp from their onlookers and Kenjirou’s heart rate spikes to the roof, but he keeps his breaths even and continues, “But if you don’t make it, then I get to plan the date!”

Kawanishi’s grin is brilliant. “You’re on.” 

He starts moving again, but he’s the only one doing so—their teammates stay where they are, watching as Kawanishi lines up his shot, and Kenjirou squares himself to dive for the ball. 

It’s like the stadium is holding their breath as he backs away from the ball for a running start. Kenjirou ignores the tension in the air and remembers to breathe, keeping his eyes on Kawanishi and the ball. 

Kawanishi breaks into a run. Kenjirou squeezes his fists at his side. The ball comes hurtling at the goalpost and Kenjirou’s body lurches forward. 

It lands straight into his chest and he hugs the ball to his chest as tightly as possible until the whistle blows. There’s an unexpected cheer from the Sendai Swans’ side of the field and Kenjirou heaves a sigh of relief as he gets to his feet, ball tucked underneath his arm. He saved it, his team is still tied, and even better— 

“I didn’t think you’d get that,” Kawanishi says. He’s standing at the edge of the defender’s box, grin sheepish. “I was so sure I’d make it.”

“You were off,” Kenjirou tells him. “It was way too easy to predict.”

The other boy stares at him, lips pursed, before he shakes his head with a low chuckle. “Unbelievable. You’re too good at being a goalie.”

“Good. I better be. And I believe I get to plan a date?” 

A huge grin overtakes Kawanishi’s face and the pink flush is back in full bloom. “Yeah. Text me the details?” 

Kenjirou can’t resist the smile on his lips. “Mhm. After I beat you at this game, alright?” 

“Please. After Shiratorizawa takes this game, you mean.” The whistle blows and Kawanishi begins to jog off. “Later, Shirabu.”

“Watch out for your head!” Kenjirou shouts. He holds the soccer ball in his hand, grinning at what it had brought him, and looks up at the field before him.

Kawanishi is right in front of him, smirk in place and so  _ damn  _ taunting. Well, if he wants to play it that way… 

Kenjirou steps back and dropkicks the ball high into the air and straight to dead center, where it hurtles down and crashes onto Kawanishi’s head. He drops onto the field as the ball bounces in between Tendou’s feet. He takes control, dribbling it to the other end of the field as Kawanishi pulls himself off the ground, shooting a disbelieving stare at Kenjirou. 

He smirks back in return and in that moment, with a date on his mind and his team about to win the game, Shirabu Kenjirou is satisfied. 

**Author's Note:**

> first notes!! thank you SO much to [Paige](https://twitter.com/KUNIMl) for being EVER so patient with me while i flail about and figure out how to write <33 I had so much fun writing dumb boys trying to flirt aaaAA thank you thank you thank you!!! you're the best !!!!!
> 
> to anyone reading this: THANK YOU FOR READING !!!! i sorted through like three different plots before picking this one and i hope you all enjoyed it !! <33
> 
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> 
> \+ the title is from the song [West End Kids](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=qpMYWunXXP8) by New Politics <33 
> 
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> 
> catch me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/kiroiimye) & [Tumblr](https://kiroiimye.tumblr.com/) :DD


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